Stories.

“Do you know what it’s like when we see you walking home drunk?” He said, clenching his fists, containing his fury, trying to stay composed as tears swept his face.

“I’ve been living like a stranger in my own house for more than twenty years now, kid. Let that sink in.” Said the father, collapsing in his bed.

Everybody has his own story, every story has different point of views. Why judge when we know not what one had been through. Let’s try being supportive for once. It might mean nothing to them but you can learn something new.

Isn’t it crazy that the pressures of life can turn someone into something they don’t want to be. So much so that they become someone unfamiliar to themselves. We all have a little “f*cked up” flowing through our blood… You’re right though, it doesn’t make us bad people, it’s not poison to us…we just have to learn how to sort and siphon it out before it takes over our minds and bodies, confuses our brains, and tricks us into believing our priorities ARE what they actually ARE NOT. Picking up what I’m putting down?? hah I like this post Bharath. It’s sad but understanding.🖤♥️